Oh, even I am sharing a secret conversation with Raag now.
Raag straightens up, leans forward in his chair. “Sir, I think Mayuri is young—”
But my father seems to be on a mission. He cuts Raag off right away. “That is correct. Mayuri is too young to decide what is right for her.”
By the look on Raag’s face, it seems like that is not what he was going to say. “She did not even want to be a computer engineer. The other day, she wanted to switch to an MBA. And now all too suddenly, it is absolutely important for her to go to Bombay and be a programmer!”
I am not sure when and if my father will ever think I am old enough to make my own decisions. I should have never shared my thoughts about the MBA. I sigh. Oh, Father, I think. I was indeed confused, for I was young. But you haven’t quite grasped the fact that like every other kid, I too am growing up. Kids do eventually find their path, struggling through confusions and distractions. I hope one day I find mine. At least let me try!
I was lucky to have found Raag who helped me find the right direction. Each day, the path to my future is getting clearer. Working in IT, in Mumbai city, is what I wish to do now.
In the future, maybe write a book or two if I could, for I love writing. Then one day I do wish to get married to Raag, for he is the love of my life. And I will get married—someday.
I guess this is not the right day, time, or occasion to explain to my father that his daughter is a twenty-year-old woman, an adult, and can make some of her own life decisions.
“Raag kumar, I can see why she agreed to marry you,” my father says, and I inhale. “But now she doesn’t want to! I simply do not understand.”
“Listen…” my mother interrupts.
But my father doesn’t give her much chance. “Let me speak.” In an angry tone, he continues, “She doesn’t know that once you go back and Mayuri doesn’t go within a few months, we will be again in limbo. People would keep asking us. And what if…” His voice breaks. His eyes are red, and he is sitting like he just finished a half-marathon.
Inadvertently my mother lifts the teacup off the coffee table and passes it to him. Auntie Preeto looks visibly upset as if there is turbulence inside her. Raag looks worried and concerned. Clearly not the scene typically takes place at such events. Usually, people laugh too much that their jaws hurt and put their best foot forward.
Then something happens that has never happened in the last two decades: My father looks straight at Raag.
“Look, Raag kumar, I love my daughters. Once you go back to the US without marriage, and if for some reason, you decide to turn away from this nuptial, it would hurt Mayuri’s social reputation.” He pauses to breathe in and out, to steady his trembling voice. “If that happens, I will find you and make sure you pay for it.”
What?!
My ears refuse to believe what they just heard. Did my father really say that? Awestruck, I look at my sister for reassurance, and the dismayed look on her face is my answer.
My mother’s teary eyes are popped open. Something like this only happens in movies. My father almost never showed affection, except when we were way too young—babies, I think. Why would I not remember otherwise?
So, social pinpointing is not the only reason, I realize. My father is worried about the possibility of Raag leaving me. I thought my father knew Raag, my righteous man, better than that. I thought they were bonding. But again, no matter how good a man is, the father of a bride is always going to be worried.
Raag takes the opportunity to intertwine. “I will keep that in mind, sir.”
I’m in awe, unsure of how Raag has this incredible self-control. My father literally threatened Raag as if he forgot all sorts of possible social etiquette, in front of the whole family, yet Raag sits there like a complete gentleman respecting my father.
He looks at Raag and says, “You know, we are middle-class people. We live in a very conservative society. This is not America!”
“Sir, I hail from the same class, and I clearly understand your concern.”
My father shakes his head. “All I need to know is, can I trust you? Raag kumar?”
Raag gets up off the couch, swiftly takes two long strides toward my father, and crouches next to him. My sister’s mouth falls open. Raag takes my father’s hand in both of his, clearly taking my father by surprise, and I wonder wildly if Raag is going to propose to him.
Focus.
Raag looks up at my father with his serene demeanor. “Sir, trust is something that one has to develop. So, it is not in my control,” Raag says in his husky polite voice. “But I want you to know that I love your daughter. I can’t ever so much as think of hurting her or her reputation in any way.”
Did Raag just announce that he loves me? In front of everyone?
This, for sure, is a historical moment of my tiny existence, for both important men in my life have announced their love for me.
Raag continues, “All I want for Mayuri is to be happy, and I will make sure that she is happy.” He fleetingly looks at me and then to my father, who is staring at the opposite wall. But I know that he is listening to Raag. “She thinks that marriage would create more questions and social pressure for her, and for you too. I agree with her. Marriage would be a distraction for her. She would be pressured to choose against her will, and I think she should have the freedom to make her own choices. Either it’s marriage or work or anything else.”
There is a momentary pause and looks like my father is thinking. Even my mother seems lost as she stares at Raag—the angel—Purohit.
I think Raag is trying to fathom my father’s reaction, who sits on a sofa like a statue. However, his breathing has softened, and he looks a little under control.
Raag swiftly glances at me, and uninvited tears trickle down my cheeks. I think I am in awe to have these two wonderful men in my life who love and care for me so much, each in their own unique ways. Especially in a male-dominant country where women have to struggle for the small things, and sometimes for the most basic things.
“I assure you, sir, if at any point in time, you or Mayu asked me to fly down here for the wedding, I promise I would come here and get married,” Raag says, and his voice has the calmness of a saint. “But for now, let her do what she wants. Let her be who she wants to be.”
My father finally moves and gazes at him.
“Raag kumar, you know the consequences if she goes to Mumbai!” My father finally speaks, but in a slightly softer tone. “Mumbai is a big city. We read all sorts of incidents in the newspapers these days. What if…if…” He fails to finish his sentence.
Raag takes a deep breath. “Sir, you are a proud father of two wonderful daughters. You have worked hard all your life, and invested in their future so one day, they can fly and explore the horizon. Now when it’s time to make that first flight, don’t take away their wings because you are scared that there is so much bad out there.” He looks at my mother and Auntie Preeto, then back at my father. “There are just as many good people out there as there are bad. In fact, I believe there are more good people out there than not so good.”
Good people like him.
“But she has never lived by herself.”
My mother rests her hand on my father’s shoulder. “Satish, this is the time when one more time in our life, we have to show courage and faith.”